The text for Easter Sunday was Mark 16: 1-8:
1 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. 2 Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb 3 and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?”
4 But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. 5 As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed.
6 “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. 7 But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’”
8 Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
We had the privilege of being joined by Rev. Mark Nelson of the Eastern Washington-Idaho Synod during this service. Mark presided over the service and we preached the sermon together. Because we were working off of each other we opted to keep the message simple and personal.
Most people think of Easter as a day and Christ's resurrection as an event. That's exactly how it started. This story happened to the women who followed Jesus on a particular day in a particular place. It was real. But the
effects of that day and event--the most important part of the story--rolled like a wave through time and history and continue to this day and beyond. We'll never see the end of the transformation Christ's resurrection brought to us. Not without cause did those women tremble in fear. Their whole world had been changed!
This day meant that the power of death was no more. A new power had taken control of our ultimate destiny. The pain and suffering of the cross--the intense and real anguish of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday--were now subservient to the purpose to which they pointed: Easter morning. Nothing and no-one were beyond redemption. No evil could prevail. No power which works against God's children could outlast or overcome this new reality.
It's a scary prospect when you think of how much we depend on the things of this world. We can only see life in the here and now. We see the outer shell of a greater truth, a shell which will be broken like that of an egg when the New Birth hatches. We see the outer shell and call it truth. It's going to roll away and crack just like the stone rolled away from Jesus' tomb. A couple tons of rock meant unmovable reality, symbolizing the even more unmovable reality of death and decay. Before God those unmovable realities were feathers, blown in the wind. Before God the outer shell of the egg cracks, giving birth to Truth, Joy, Peace, and Eternity. Everything we know will be moved in that moment, even as the night-bound reality of those women was broken and moved to make way for the new morn.
But it's also a joyous prospect, which was the focus of the sermon. Every darkness in the world becomes space to reflect the new light of this Easter morning. The resurrection flows and blooms all around us. Both Mark and I shared stories from our lives and ministries: recalcitrant folks turned around, the sick and dying given new assurance and strength, suffering communities given new spirit and purpose. We've seen them all!
The resurrection doesn't just happen when everything goes right. Often it happens precisely when everything has gone irrevocably wrong, as it did with Jesus on the cross. I shared the story of a man who died from Parkinson's disease who, in his final moments, suffered from a gulf between him and his wife because he had always been the strong one and taken care of her and he couldn't anymore and she didn't know how to reach out to him. Finally, almost in desperation, she asked for communion. When they shared it, their eyes met and they found strength and certainty beyond either of them. They were together again, experiencing God's arms around them both through the sacrament. Their eyes shone. They bonded. He died the next day but both had found what they sought. No disease could take away their love nor their hope for and with each other. That was resurrection. It didn't just happen after death, but before.
If you know how to look for it you'll see the resurrection happening all around. I've seen marriages on the brink of destruction renewed. I've seen marriages end and new ones begin out of the ashes. I've seen people lonely without companionship suddenly find purpose in causes that aren't related to romance at all. Each of these is a form of renewal. I've seen failures forgiven, tragedy struggled through, hopes dashed and then born again in a different way. Those are resurrection events too. Every night when I tuck my children into bed I think how marvelous it is that they're here, how quickly the day went, and how I wish it could last longer...that I could freeze this moment with them forever and keep living it because I'm so happy to be their dad. But then every morning they wake up and we're off again...a new day, another resurrection!
Sometimes the resurrection brings laughter. Sometimes it brings tears. Sometimes the resurrection comes in a surge of hope, other times with a wave of fear. Sometimes people shout to the world that they've seen it. Other times they carry it quietly in their heart. Either way, it's around us, in us, woven into the threads of our lives every day.
We are Easter people. We are people who cannot be conquered, who live in hope and expectation, strength and compassion. Triumph is our destiny, joy and renewal our ultimate end. We don't walk away from Easter morning saying, "That was nice. We'll do this again next year." We walk away from Easter morning knowing that its promise will be with us every day of our lives and beyond.
Celebrate, wonder, and believe. He is risen! He is risen indeed!
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
